Page 35 of Never Beguile a Duke

And perhaps my mother and sister, which is why I’m not giving them any indication that I’m nurturing any type of attachment to you.

Winifred forced a smile. “Once Juliette emerges from her chamber, I’ll speak with her about the impossibility of a relationship with Your Grace.”

She curtsied and turned away.

“Wait.” The rumbled word brushed over her shoulders, sending a shiver sliding down her spine.

She turned back and gasped, shocked to find the Duke of Beaufort less than six inches behind her.

“Don’t tell Juliette.” A strange light glowed in his eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

“This transition is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated. Juliette seems to have bonded quite well with you… and your sister.” He swallowed and tugged at his cravat, loosening the knot. “Allow her the fantasy of a potential mother this week, and once the event is over, I’ll explain that marriage isn’t a goal of mine.”

“Are you certain that won’t further complicate things with Miss Juliette?” Winifred indicated his daughter’s chamber on the opposite end of the corridor. “Losing both her mother and the desired replacement within a month may prove quite traumatic for such a young girl.”

“I appreciate your concern and will consider your position. However, for the day at least, would you agree to hold your tongue?” He stared at her, his eyes silently pleading.

“Of course.” She bobbed her head. “I apologize for keeping you.”

This decision would cause nothing but heartache... for more than one person.

“Miss Fernsby-Webb?” the Duke of Beaufort called as she turned away again. “I wouldn’t be averse to kissing you again, as long as you’re not engaged to another man, and you realize that nothing will come from our time together this week.”

“I understand the full parameters of your proposal,” she replied, lowering her voice and leading him back to the staircase. “If I agree, I have one request in return. Under no circumstance is Nora or my mother to learn of this agreement.”

“Concerned they will meddle?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Quite certain, actually.” Winifred grinned. “Or have you forgotten your quest this morning?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I doubt your mother would send me to prison.”

“She sent me.”

“I am a duke.” He puffed himself up. “What reason would she have to deny my request for your hand?”

Winifred’s heart stuttered. “You’re not interested in my hand, Your Grace, or have you already fallen victim to your suggested ruse?”

“I’m in no more danger from Cupid’s arrow than you are, Miss Fernsby-Webb,” he replied, lifting her arm and brushing his lips across her hand.

A shiver rolled through her body.

She was in danger—grave danger.

If she didn’t find a way to guard herself against the charming Duke of Beaufort, Miss Juliette’s heart wouldn’t be the only one breaking. And with the impending arrival of Mr. Hollingsworth, she suspected none of them would survive the week unscathed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SILAS MORTON, DUKE OF BEAUFORT

It was too much to hope that Roxburghe wouldn’t question Silas’ motivations for abandoning his house in favor of an excursion into town.

The instant that the coach jolted into motion, Roxburghe slid forward on his bench, his intense gaze probing Silas.

“Does your presence,” he said, stroking his chin, “have anything to do with the affliction from which you suffer?”

“I’m merely seeing to my guests’ needs, as an exemplary host would do.” Silas closed his eyes and leaned his head against the coach wall.